Fake Friends, Real Friends
by Donatello8696
Summary: A look into the gang friendships and how they keep them strong. Time-line jumps around a lot. Rated for some language. Review please!


**I was bored... read this on someone's profile and thought, **_**Huh... this really relates well to the gang. **_**So, here it is!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never will ='( **

**Review please!!**

* * *

**Fake friends never ask for food. Real friends...  
**_are the reason you have no food._

"Hey Darry! What's for eatin'?" Two-Bit said cheerfully as he walted in the kitchen. Darry searched through the fridge and sighed. He slammed the door shut.

"Well, for today," he said, throwing the dirty rag he had been using to clean the mess on the oven onto the table with another sigh. "Nothing. And you can thank Steve and yourself, coming in here every day, eatin' like a pack of starving wolves."

"And again, I thank you for the delicious food you provide for us every day so we _won't _become a pack of hungry wolves," Two-Bit laughed as he rubbed his stomach.

"Okay, so you won't have a problem coming with me to the grocery store to get more food, will ya?" Darry said, grabbing his keys from the table and shrugging into his jacket. Two-Bit's eyes widened.

"Well, I-I-I just remembered. Ponyboy told me that-uh-that he was gonna-uh-need a ride home from the-uh-uh," Two-Bit stuttered frantically, desperately trying to come up with an excuse _not_ to go with Darry _shopping_. Before he could finish his babbling, however, Darry grabbed him roughly by his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, save your excuse for later. C'mon we're goin'," Darry said sternly, leading Two-Bit outside. Two-Bit let out a childish whine and unwillingly allowed himself to be forced outside by the older man.

* * *

**Fake friends bail you out of jail and tell you what you did was wrong. Real friends...  
**_will sit next to you in the cell and say, "Damn... let's do that again!"_

It was only for disturbing the public peace. Seriously, what kind of a charge is that? Can't two teenage boys have a little fun? It's not like there were any people in the park to begin with.

But here they were, locked up temporarily in a jail cell while dreading the arrivel of Mr. Curtis.

Or at least one of them was.

Soda sighed and stood up, walking around just for something to do. Two-Bit was sitting on the hard concrete floor, humming a weird little tune to himself like there wasn't a care in the world. But after about five minutes of this, the humming becoming increasingly louder, Soda finally had enough.

"Damn it, Two-Bit would you just shut up?!" he shouted. Two-Bit immediately stopped and looked up at the younger greaser, cocking an eyebrow.

"Alright. Touchy, touchy," he said, muttering that last part to himself. Soda sighed.

"Man, this is fuckin' stupid," he said, sitting down again. "We weren't even doin' anything."

Two-Bit smirked. "So you doing an unbalanced hand stand, resulting in you crashing _ass-first _- " Soda laughed loudly at this " - on a cop's car was considered doing nothing, right?"

Soda ran his hand through his hair, chuckling. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Then his face became worried and he groaned. "My dad'll skin me for this."

"Hey c'mon, man, they got nothin' on us except for 'disturbing the public peace' as they put it," the older greaser remarked. Soda shrugged, but continued to stared out past the bars of the cramped room, waiting anxiously for his father.

"That sure was funny, though."

Soda snorted.

* * *

**Fake friends have never seen you cry. Real friends...  
**_cry with you._

"Anybody home?"

Steve's call sounded through the empty house. No one answered. There was no noise at all within the Curtis home. Shrugging, he made his way in the kitchen, hoping to grab a beer and wait in the living room for Soda to come home...

He heard a muffled whimper coming from one of the rooms.

"Hello?" he called into the empty hallway. No answer.

Quickly he walked through the hall into Soda's room. Nothing. Darry's room. Nada. Ponyboy's... no one.

There was only one room left. Steve hesitated in front of this door. He wasn't very comfortable and thought it impolite to enter Mr. and Mrs. Curtis's room. He felt as though he were invaded their home more than he already was. But there was someone in there. Steve paused for another moment, then finally raised his hand to knock-

-the door opened, revealing a devastated looking Sodapop. Tears streaked the boy's face and his eyes were red and swollen, but he offered Steve a watery smile and said, "Hey Steve." His voice croaked. He was trembling.

Steve was shocked. He'd only seen his best friend cry on a few occasions, and it was always horrible to see. Soda was always so happy, it was absurd to see him so... sad.

Soda nudged past Steve and made his way into the kitchen, a bewildered Steve following. Soda turned his back against one of the counters, leaning on it slightly and holding onto the edge tightly, averting Steve's eyes. Steve stood next to him and laid a hand on Soda's shoulder. "Soda, what's wrong?" he asked gently, quietly. Soda sniffed and shook his head.

"Nothin', I'm fine," he said, wiping his face with his sleeve, offering a weak smile. Steve didn't return it.

"Bull."

Soda didn't respond to this, instead continuing to stare at the ground. Steve removed his hand from Soda's shoulder and moved it across both, resting it on the opposite shoulder. "Now, what happened?"

The younger boy was quiet for a moment, pulling himself together. Then he took an unsteady breath, another tear falling down his face.

"A... um, cop.. came by earlier today while me and Ponyboy were in s-school. Darry was here so he answered 'im." Soda's voice quivered badly, but Steve didn't mind. He continued to listen.

"He- he said that there was... th-there was a c-car wreck somewhere on th-the tracks. Mum and Dad were inside."

Steve was stunned. "W-well, are they okay? They're okay, right?"

Stupid question.

Soda's eyes immediately welled up and he let out a yelp, covering his mouth after he let it out.

Then the sobs came, uncontrollable and devastating. On instinct, Steve wrapped his other arm around him and Soda clung desperately onto his best friend, his body shaking with the cries he was letting out. He didn't need to tell Steve what he told him next. Steve had a pretty clear idea what had happened to Soda's parents.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt though.

"They're d-dead, S-Steve. They're g-gone," Soda whispered brokenly. And he continued to cry, his tears soaking through Steve's shirt.

Steve didn't care, because, unbeknownest to Sodapop, tears fell down the older teen's face, too.

* * *

**Fake friends know a few things about you. Real friends...  
**_could write a book about you with direct quotes._

_I stared at the hole in the toe of my tennis shoe. Me and Darry just didn't dig each other. I could never please him. He would have hollered at me for carrying a blade if I _had _carried one. If I brought home _B_'s, he wanted _A_'s, and if I got _A_'s, he wanted to make sure they stayed _A_'s. If I was playing football, I should be in studying, and if I was reading, I should be out playing football. He never hollered at Sodapop - not even when Soda dropped out of school or got tickets for speeding. He just hollered at me._

Darry frowned when he read this part.

He had come inside Ponyboy's room, looking for the kid when he noticed his unfinished but almost completed theme sitting at his desk. Knowing that Pony would probably have his eldest proofread it before handing it in, he decided to save him the trouble of asking, and sat down on his bed, reading it.

He didn't like what he read.

Not that the kid's writing wasn't well done, really it astounded Darry to see that his little brother captured every detail in this theme almost perfectly. It amazed him.

What Darry didn't like was how Ponyboy had written how his character came to description in his youngest's eyes. He didn't like the way he seemed to act toward Ponyboy. He didn't favor Soda, hell, he loved his brothers both equally the same! Was this really how he acted with Ponyboy? As if he loved Soda more?

Darry placed the paper down with a sigh. He never knew that he was like this. Ponyboy never spoke to him about it. Darry let out a breath of laughter; he obviously wouldn't come to him to him if he acted like such a jackass his own little brother was uncomfortable talking with him. He never told Darry how he felt.

But maybe he told Sodapop.

Darry felt the familiar pang of jealousy as he thought of the close bond Soda and Ponyboy shared. He wished that he was able to share that with them, and be the close brothers they once were.

Fat chance of that happening, what with Darry being away for work almost all day to really spend any time with his brothers.

Darry stood up from the bed. He'd make it up to them. One of these days he'd make it up to them.

But first, he thought as he left the room and found Ponyboy in the living room, there was one thing he needed to do.

"Ponyboy, can I talk to you for a minute?"

* * *

**Fake friends will leave you behind if that is what the crowd is doing. Real friends...  
**_will kick the ass of the whole crowd that left you._

Cherry walked onto the school grounds, gripping the strap of her bag tighter with every step she took. Word got around somehow that she had been helping the Greasers at the time of the rumble. The entire Soc class at her school believed it, and had started to slowly ignore her, talk about her behind her back, sometimes even to her face. She felt horrible. She had betrayed her friends and everyone else, and it's not as though she had anyone that was a Greaser to talk to, besides Ponyboy.

But of course, she realized with a scoff, he wouldn't talk to her anymore. Not after the way she treated him to protect her reputation as a Soc.

That reputation was ruined now.

Taking a deep breath, Cherry stepped inside the school and began walking through the hallways, trying to make her way to her locker without making eye contact with anyone. She heard whispers fly past her as she hurried a little. She heard names.

"Traitor."

"Bitch."

"Grease."

That last one stopped her. They had sunk so low to call her a Greaser girl? Didn't they see that she wasn't helping them anymore, now that the rumble was over? Didn't they see that she was sick and tired of this Soc/Greaser rivelary?

Of course not. After all, they were too cool to feel the way she was feeling.

With a heavy heart, Cherry reached her locker and spun in her combination. She felt eyes on her, and she tensed. She looked behind her to find three Soc boys and their girls staring coldly at her, not bothering to look away when they saw they were caught. Their stare said everything.

_You traitor! Do you know what you just got yourself into? You're one of them now. You're gonna pay dearly for this._

Overwhelmed with devastation, Cherry gave up on her lock combination and just ran. She ran blindly through the hallways, manuvering around the huge crowds of people in her way. As she ran, she got a glimpse of Ponyboy staring at her. At first, his expression was blank. Then it turned to wide-eyed surprise.

"Cherry?" he called, but she ignored him and ran on. When she finally stopped, she found herself in the large field in back of the school where the football team and cheerleading squad would practice and play. Her stomach clench as she thought of cheerleading. Would she be welcome there anymore? Would she be welcome anywhere anymore?

She walked over to the empty bleachers and sat down. What was she going to do now? She was now considered an outcast in her own social group, and she couldn't go to the Greasers for help. They didn't need her help anymore, and even Ponyboy didn't want to speak with her. She was alone.

Or maybe she wasn't.

"Cherry? You okay?"

Cherry looked up in surprise to find Marcia standing there, looking down at her worridly. She was wearing a leather jacket over her shoulders. Cherry recognized it as Two-Bit's. She felt a small pang of jealousy. Marcia had had no problem announcing to the entire school in her own little way that she was friends with the Greasers. Sure, the Socs had cast her out before they had Cherry, but it didn't matter to Marcia. She didn't act any different than she did before; kind to everyone, always willing to lend out a helping hand, Soc or Grease. Cherry wished she was more like that.

"Are you okay?" Marcia asked again, sitting down next to Cherry. "You look as though you've been crying."

Cherry hastily took out a small hankerchief and dabbed her face with it. So that was why Ponyboy had look at her in such surprise.

"I'm fine," Cherry said, stuffing the hankerchief back in her bag. Then, she looked at Marcia. "How do you deal with it?"

"With what?"

"The whole outsider thing. I mean, you never seem to care about it. You don't even look the least bit bothered."

Marcia sighed, then smiled. "To tell you the truth, the Socs have never really been my friends. Except for you. You also seemed tired of all this sticking-to-the-status-quo thing. I just decided 'to hell with it', because I know things would never change unless someone does something." She looked away, then back to Cherry. "In this case, it's three someones."

Cherry stared at her, surprised. "Three?"

Marcia's response was to point off to where the school was. Cherry followed her gaze. Ponyboy was coming across the field toward them. Cherry remained staring at him until he reached them.

"Cherry, you okay?" he said hesitantly.

"Yes, Ponyboy. I'm alright," she said, standing up. She smoothed her skirt, adjusted her hold on her bag, and looked up at both of them.

"Hey Cherry, about earlier," Pony started. "I'm real sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay, Ponyboy," she said. Then she smiled. "Ya dig okay."

Ponyboy grinned. Marcia then spoke up.

"C'mon. If we hurry we can still make it to homeroom."

The three friends set off across the football field, coming across many cold and accusing glares. Now that she knew she wasn't all alone anymore, Cherry met every one of their glares with confidence. She turned to Marica.

"To hell with it, right?"

Marcia grinned.

They were the real outsiders now.

* * *

**Fake friends will take away your drink when they think you've had enough. Real friends...  
**_will see you stumbling all over the place and say "Now drink the rest of that. You know we don't waste."_

Dallas stared as Steve drank yet another shot. "Damn Steve, another one?"

Steve slammed the shot glass back onto the counter. "Yeh mann, dis shis'good!"

Dally erupted in laughter. "Well, then - " he turned away from Steve " - hey Buck!" he called over to the man behind the bar, waving him over. "Another round!"

"Again?!"

Dally looked back at Steve. The younger Greaser was swaying slightly to the Hank Williams music playing, staring off into space. "Yeah, I think he can handle it!"

Buck shrugged and a moment later appeared with another round of shots. Steve snapped out of his daze and eagerly grabbed another glass, drowning it in a second. Dally shook his head, smirking. "You are one drunk son of a bitch."

"No I'm noooooooot," Steve whined, taking another glass. Once he drank that, he let out a loud hiccup. "'Scuse me." He put the glass down and shoved the others away, folded his arms and placed his head into them.

"No, no, no, Stevie-boy," Dally scolded, grabbing a handful of Steve's hair and pulled his head up. Steve didn't react, letting Dally yank his head back. His eyes were closed. Dally let him go. Steve's head went down on the counter with a thud. He immediately sat back up, rubbing his forehead.

"Owwwie," Steve complained. Dally chuckled, and shoved Steve's arm off the counter and slid the shot glasses in front off Steve again.

"Drink 'em all."

Steve looked at him, skeptic. "Was in it four meh?" Dally held up a twenty and waved it in front of Steve's face. The eyes on the teen never left the piece. Dally smirked again and slammed it onto the table. This convinced Steve.

"A'ight," Steve shrugged, and grabbed another glass, gulping it down. Dally clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "That's a good boy," he said as though he were talking to a dog. Steve's response was to belch.

* * *

**Fake friends knock on your door whenever they come to visit. Real friends...  
**_will barge right in and say "I'M HOME!"_

Johnny was sitting in the Curtis living room, trying to pay attention to the television. He frowned at the set before turning it off with a resigned sigh, and then tried to get into a comfotable position to go to sleep.

Fat chance of that when Two-Bit comes strolling in the house.

Johnny jumped as the door slammed shut with a loud clang and opened his eyes, startled.

"_HONEY, I'M HOME_!" Two-Bit yelled. Yelled so loud in fact that Johnny covered his ears quickly and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he saw Two-Bit staring back at him, grinning widely.

"Hiya Johnny!" he said cheerfully, and plopped down next to the young Greaser on the couch. Johnny rubbed his tired eyes.

"Glory Two-Bit. Ya do know that it's like seven in the mornin'? The Curtises ain't even up yet," Johnny said quietly. Two-Bit raised an eyebrow.

"It's that early?" he said in wonder. Johnny nodded slowly. Two-Bit shrugged. "Alright." Then he got up and walked to where the hallway to the Curtises' bedrooms were and stopped at the end. He cupped his hands around his mouth, and Johnny flinched even before he heard Two-Bit yell:

"**Wake up Curtis family!!**"

Then Two-Bit ran back into the living room and dived behind the couch where Johnny was sitting and peeked over the top, waiting.

Sure enough, there was a loud rustling coming from one of the rooms, and out came Steve, hair and eyes wild. Two-Bit lowered himself more behind the couch.

"Where is he?" he asked Johnny. Johnny, confused as to why Steve was sleeping in one of the bedrooms, didn't think pissing Steve off was a good idea, so he just pointed behind the couch where Two-Bit was hiding. Steve quickly walked over to the end of the couch. There was a shrill yelp, and Two-Bit leapt out from behind the couch, diving over the top. He landed safely on the cushions and scrambled back up, muttering a quick "Traitor." to Johnny as he got up and ran out the door. Steve caught it before it slammed and ran out after him. After witnessing that odd scene, Johnny turned back to the living room and found Ponyboy walking in, yawning and clad only in his jeans. He smiled drowsily when he saw Johnny.

"Hey Johnny," he said.

"Hey," Johnny said. He gestured toward the window. "Guess ya heard that."

Pony chuckled. "Yea."

"What was Steve doing in your bedroom?" Johnny asked. Ponyboy's room would probably be the best option, since he was sure Steve would never bunk with Darry. And Soda was there, too.

"Guess he tried to make do on the mattress in Soda's old room."

Johnny let out a soft breath of laughter, and the two boys looked out the screen door, where Two-Bit was unsuccessfully trying to pry out of Steve's headlock, yelling, "Shit! Al-alright! Unca-uncle!!"

Johnny laughed.

* * *

**This is dedicated to Matt, a friend of mine. Matt was a very happy-go lucky kid, always laughing and joking. Always smiling. He reminded me so much of Sodapop. And Soda is really good at keeping his problems to himself, with Sandy and all. Matt was the same. We didn't suspect anything was wrong with him, since he would always show no signs of depression or sadness, and he was very happy. But he was keeping his hurt all to himself and no one knew until it was too late.**

**Matt was having a tough time in high school. He was bullied constantly. It never stopped. Though he never showed it, we found out later that he was hurt badly by this. Finally, he decided to take the easy way out, and commited suicide recently.**

**He was only fourteen.**

**And so, this story is for him.**

**RIP, Matt. We all miss you.**


End file.
